Someone is shaking my shoulders. I scowl and dig in deeper.
Julie leans against the colt’s shimmering chestnut neck and rests her cheek on his mane as I lead him back to the barn—
Wake up, a man shouts into my ear.
I squirm and try to shut him out, whoever he is, this horrible alarm dragging me into this horrible morning. Snooze, snooze, please snooze.
We stroll hand in hand toward the farmhouse, and it’s warm and full of history; it has been in my family for generations, handed down to me by my father, who was kind and courageous, who instilled nothing but hope in his son and never once told him that only God could love his filthy human heart.
The music stops.
My eyes snap open.
A man and a woman are watching me from across a small table. Another man is standing next to me, pressing a live wire into my ribs, which explains why my back is arching and my wrists are straining and why I’m tied to a chair with a length of coaxial cable.
The man removes the wire and I go slack.
“You’re quite the deep sleeper!” the woman in the yellow tie says, like a mother chiding her teenage son.
“We apologise for any discomfort,” the man in the blue tie adds.
The man in the black tie returns to his seat.
I really am dead. I’m surrounded by faces that I’ve seen bloodied and charred on the ground. What unjust afterlife is this, that I have to share it with these obscene creatures?
“We’re glad you’re awake,” Yellow Tie says, reaching toward me and placing her palm on the table, a gesture evoking intimacy and trust. “We have a very exciting offer to share with you.”
Of course it’s not really Yellow Tie. Not the one I saw with a pole through her head, anyway. Longer nose, thinner lips. But the differences in her features vanish into the sameness of everything else: her clothing, her posture, her empty cardboard earnestness. Blue Tie’s hair is lighter, his chin sharper, and Black Tie is less bulky, but they are the same three people, as if their bodies are originals but their souls are copies.
My eyes dart around the room. All the lights are broken except one fluorescent tube buzzing overhead, bathing the pitchmen in a pale, unforgiving light that highlights the seams between their makeup and their flesh.
And what are you kids supposed to be?
We’re human beings. Trick or treat!
The room is dark, but I can see that I’m alone with these creatures. “Where’s Julie?” I ask Yellow Tie. I don’t sense any particular authority structure, but it seems to be her role to tell people things they want to hear, and I want to hear that Julie is safe, even if it comes from the world’s least trustworthy mouth.
The mouth smiles blandly. I try to stand up and realise my ankles are tied to the legs of the chair.
“We apologise for any discomfort,” Blue Tie says again. “Unfortunately, due to recent difficulties, we do need to keep you restrained at this time to ensure the safety of Axiom employees.”
“Where is Julie?” I shout at him, but the cold plastic smiles they’re all wearing tell me I won’t get far talking to them like people. I’m not having a conversation; I’m watching a commercial.
“No doubt you’re aware of the terrible tragedy that took place in the stadium,” Blue Tie says, switching to his grave and reverential face. “Improper storage of expired munitions led to an explosion that took nearly a hundred lives, including those of the enclave’s central leadership.”
“Fortunately,” Yellow Tie chimes in like they’re singing a duet, “the Axiom Group was right next door, ready to assist our new west coast neighbours. Working closely with Citi Stadium’s existing Security and Medical teams, we have been able to contain the damage and provide aid to the victims.”
“You did this,” I mumble, looking at the table. “Everyone will know you did this. They’ll fight you.”
The peculiar sensation of reliving a moment from a dream. A memory of a conversation that never happened.
Trust me, kid. I know my business.
“We have offered some of our best people to fill the holes in Citi’s management,” Yellow Tie says, “and its remaining members have been very receptive to our help.”
I begin to shake my head, my arms flexing against the cables.
“Where we are encountering some difficulty,” Blue Tie says, “is with the non-living population of the stadium and surrounding area.”
I stop shaking my head and look up.
“Since arriving on the west coast,” Yellow Tie says, “we have encountered a puzzling—a puzzling—” She blinks. “Thing. A puzzling thing.” Her smile falters for the first time and her expression crinkles into something like discomfort.
Blue Tie steps in to rescue her. “We have encountered non-living persons who are non-standard. Who do not—who show puzzling signs of—” He grimaces and lowers his head.
“Life?” I offer.
“We have encountered unknowns,” Yellow Tie blurts.
Blue Tie’s head rises again. “We have encountered unknowns. They behave differently. We have been unable to predict their responses, and this poses a danger.”
“The Axiom Group wants to help,” Yellow Tie says. “We want to provide security to this region and to the entire world.”
“But security is impossible when unknowns exist,” Blue Tie says. “Security is impossible when hundreds of thousands of unknowns exist.”